A Stone's Throw
by Spencer5460
Summary: The events of "The Committee" as seen through Hutch's eyes. If given the choice to kill Garner, or protect him and perhaps lose his own life in the process, what would I have him do? Which would I want him to save? His body or his soul? For heart-stopping minutes even I didn't know. Starsky was out there somewhere with no gun, no backup. Nothing but his conscience.


**A Stone's Throw**

Starsky saw the world in black and white, good and bad, right and wrong. No matter how long we'd been at this line of work, he still liked to think that if we did a good job and caught the bad guy – the pusher, the pimp, the rapist, the murderer – everyone else would do the right thing to keep him off the streets. Then we could watch the sunset, shoulder to shoulder at the end of the day, thinking the world was a beautiful place. That's the way things were _supposed_ to go.

But in reality, that wasn't what happened. There'd be a breach of procedure, or a witness would change their story, or worse yet, some swell in a monkey suit would come along just itching to show off all the clever tricks he'd learned in law school and his turkey of a client would get a slap on the wrist. Like the rest of us hadn't a clue. Yeah, right. They didn't fool me any. Smear black and white and you get a whole lot of shades of gray.

We thought we had tied up all the loose ends, dotted every "i" and crossed every "t" the day we brought in Jerry Adams for beating a hooker half to death. He had five priors and there were a half dozen witnesses. But his record was buried and his victim stayed mum. As we watched Adams waltz out of court practically arm in arm with Sam Garner, an attorney with his number scribbled on every bathroom stall in city jail, I could feel the steam rising off my partner. The heat practically rippling the air.

"Damn, Hutch." Starsky slapped the wall, air whooshing inches from my face. "I don't get it! How could this happen? He'll be back in business by tonight."

"Don't beat yourself up over it, Gordo. We did the best we could." I laid a hand on his arm hoping to cool his frustration. He barely responded to my touch. Not a good sign.

"The best we can do isn't good enough when scum like Adams are allowed to go right back on the streets. This isn't a court – it's a fuckin' revolving door!"

A revolving door, alright, but we were the ones left spinning.

Not two days later, someone accomplished what we could not – took Adams off the street. Permanently this time. His body was found by the railroad tracks, hands tied behind his back and a .32 caliber bullet in through his eye. It was an execution, pure and simple. Adams the perpetrator was now Adams the victim.

Three weeks later we brought in a hood by the name of Elfonso Blake. Blake had shot a clerk who'd shown a bit too much bravado during a liquor store robbery. Despite his rap sheet, Blake had his charge reduced courtesy of slick Sam Garner and walked free on bond pending trial. Unfortunately, he'd never show for his trial. He was found in an abandoned warehouse, wrists tied and half his brains splattered on a wall.

Our case load was growing and getting uglier by the day.

Starsky had a magical way of compartmentalizing it all. Busting pushers one minute and adopting pet rocks the next. I envied him while I groused at him at the same time. Thank God he never took it to heart. He understood me even when I didn't understand myself. We had a way of playing off each other like that, intuitively knowing what the other needed. But when we were working, we were single-mindedly focused.

When we got a call about a woman's screams coming from the abandoned industrial complex at Harper and Chandler, the same area where two rapes had recently occurred, we were jacked. We'd had our eyes on a tag team of lowlifes, Paul Willits and Ward Billings, who seemed to have made the place their personal playground. Even though they fit the descriptions we'd received from the victims, up until now we hadn't had enough solid evidence to bring them in. The victims had all balked at testifying in court. Maybe the third time was the charm.

Our blood pumped and the siren squalled as Starsky gunned the Torino down the street. When we pulled into the complex, sure enough, we heard a woman scream in terrified short bursts, as if someone was trying to muffle her. We followed the sounds and saw two men holding a woman on the ground in a corner. We recognized the men right away. Willits and Billings. They jumped up and ran when they saw us and we split up to go after them. I managed to bring down one but the other slipped away from Starsky like a greased pig.

Starsky came back to the woman, bruised and bloody on the ground. In perfect Starsky form, he was able to hide his irritation at losing his perp when he approached her. He used his soft touch and soothing voice, just like he did with puppies and little children, to calm her. It always worked.

"Billings got away," he said to me while he crouched by the victim, stroking her arm. "But I think - with her testimony - this time we got him made."

"Come on, man! We were just having some fun." The big blond – Willits – struggled as I cuffed him and recited his rights. "She came along for kicks."

The woman shook her head nervously at that, but Starsky didn't buy the old line anyway. A woman's "no" meant "no." As simple as black and white. Nothing else mattered. At least not then, as he huddled with her on the dirty floor.

oooooooooo

Willits practically offered to be Starsky's dancing partner as he left the courtroom, to the tune of a measly ten thousand dollars' bond. Sam Garner was leading the band. He'd be out in a matter of hours. Just like Adams last month. And Blake three months before that. It was déjà vu all over again.

"This is the third time you've arrested my client. What is it with you? Some kind of a fixation?" Garner's chest puffed up like a blow fish. It was wonder he didn't pop a button.

"Willets and his pal, Billings, are the best excuse for capital punishment I've heard yet." Starsky's simmering frustration was dangerously close to boiling over. He sparred with Garner down the hallway, debating the rights and wrongs of the justice system in a pointless shadow box.

"Starsk, it's over with." I put my hand on his arm and angled my body between him and his antagonists as we waited for the elevator.

"Oh, so you're not only the arresting officer. You're also judge, jury and executioner." Garner crooned.

I was tempted to step aside and let Starsky have at him but that would only have made matters worse. This was no typical thug we were dealing with. We couldn't work the court room the same way we worked the streets. I knew we'd be better off to play the game by the rule book, but at the moment my partner wasn't seeing it that way.

"I suggest you leave justice in the hands of the officers of the court." The lawyer continued to lecture as if we'd willfully missed criminal procedure 101.

"There's justice and then there's _justice!_ " Starsky's eyes flashed. He borrowed my patented move as he pointed a finger in Garner's face.

Watching it from the other side, I could see just how intimidating it was. 'You're beautiful when you're angry,' Starsky liked to gibe me when I was the hothead and he was the cooling rain. I could say the same thing about him. The elegant violence of a lightning storm. But I knew the energy was wasted.

When the doors opened I pushed him inside. It gave me the slightest satisfaction to block the way and tell Willits and Garner to use the stairs.

No sooner had the doors closed than Starsky's head was on my shoulder. The storm played out. He was trembling, fighting for control.

"Take it easy." I placed my hand on the curve of his back and felt its shaky rise and fall.

"I don't get how this can happen. A three-time rapist walks out like he just stole a candy bar!"

Starsky took a few deep gulps of air, then straightened. "Hutch . . ."

He looked at me as if I could give him an answer. Some kind of declaration that life was fair and good and everything equaled out in the end. It cut at my heart that I couldn't supply what he ached for. But I was looking for the answer myself. Something that might help me sleep at night; look myself in the mirror in the morning.

"We'll take these turkeys down." I tried to reassure us both.

oooooooooo

We had stopped to grab a bite to eat and I teased him with a tuna burger loaded with mushrooms - anything to get his mind off the rape case – when the call came in. Ward Billings had been found dead, killed execution style just like Adams and Blake.

We exchanged a look more of resignation than surprise. Apparently, we weren't the only ones who thought Billings had slipped the system. It was almost as though a vigilante group had opened for business in the city, taking care of the dirty little problems the court system couldn't. I was thankful we didn't always need words to communicate, because the feelings shooting through me were jumbled.

Still, to Starsky, what's right was right and what was wrong was wrong, no matter who was paying the tab. Vigilantes were no heroes. Especially when they seemed to have a goddamn arsenal at their disposal. The coroner's report noted that Adams and Blake both had their brains blown out with different caliber weapons. We had the premonition that Billings' murder would fit that same pattern.

Now, not only did we have to worry about bringing in violent repeat offenders just to see them put back on the streets in a matter of hours, we had at least one - and possibly more - loose cannons running around trying to save the world one bullet at a time.

oooooooooo

Starsky turned the absurd pet rock over in his hand, studying it like a talisman, as we reviewed the evidence in the three killings. Suddenly Captain Dobey threw open his door and announced that Lt. Fargo from Internal Affairs wanted to see him. I spit my sip of rancid coffee back into my mug. _Fuckin' great_. I had a pretty good guess what _that_ was about.

The last thing Starsky needed was a confrontation with I. A. about an overzealous defense attorney. There was a time he believed we were all on the same side. His growing lack of confidence in the system had him questioning what he held to be true. Like a tremor preceding a full-blown California quake, the solid ground beneath his feet was shifting.

I didn't feel the betrayal the same way he did. Pebbles that joined with boulders as they tumbled down the cliff face. My own foundation hadn't been so firm to begin with. It was enough that I had Starsky to hold onto.

I followed him into Lt. Fargo's office and we found ourselves face to face with Garner himself. Starsky's outburst outside the courtroom had motivated Garner to come directly to I.A. thinking he could turn the tables on us. Lt. Fargo actually said he thought he was doing Starsky a favor by allowing him to confront Garner and his accusations personally. That, and a steaming cup of coffee will get you burned.

Words flew hot and heavy. Garner went so far as to insinuate that it was cops who were involved in the murders of his clients. Practically accusing Starsky of being the one pulling the trigger.

"Don't you think you're being a little paranoid?" I couldn't help but interject. It wasn't wise to mess with a man's partner, especially when it was mine.

But Garner brushed me off. "It's been known to happen. Lawmen who fancy themselves judge and jury."

"Make some charges or find some other soapbox, Garner." Starsky rocked back on his heels. His street tough look veiled his emotions but behind his back his hands were clenched white.

"You've never made any secret of the fact that you dislike the way I represent my clients." Garner pressed. "In fact, you hate my guts, don't you Starsky?"

"You're getting warm."

The safety of the office and the presence of Lt. Fargo made Garner act braver than he should have.

"Well, let me tell you something. No freak cop is going to scare me or prevent me from using every inch of the law to protect any client of mine."

Who did this guy think he was? Tarzan? Pounding his chest and yodeling to declare supremacy in his domain? His own personal law of the jungle? As if _we_ were the snakes rather than him. It wasn't like _he_ had ever held a junkie as he convulsed, to keep him from choking on his own tongue, or wiped blood from a hooker's face, beaten so black and swollen it was hard to tell what she even looked like.

"Get him outta here." Starsky turned away but I could feel the explosion building, like oxygen being sucked from an airtight chamber before the blast.

Still Garner wasn't finished. "Willits claims that you neglected to identify yourself as a police officer when you came charging up. He also says that you beat him half to death when you made the arrest."

"He's a liar." I'd had enough. Garner couldn't even get his accusations straight. If his plan was to divide and conquer in order to get more leverage for his defense, his tactic just backfired in the worst way. He may have considered me an ally by helping to keep Starsky in line, but he'd read us dead wrong.

" _You_ are the freak, Garner. You and those innocent turkeys that you represent. And what about that girl that got beaten up. What about the victims? What do you really _care_ about the victims?

Garner finally made the wise decision to leave, but my back was up.

"Sorry, Starsky, but I thought you ought to hear what he had to say." Fargo had the grace to look contrite but it wasn't enough for me.

"You probably called the man in here just to see what Starsky's reaction would be." I got in his face but didn't much care. If Internal Affairs wanted to poke a stick into Starsky, they could make book on me grabbing at the end.

The lieutenant's defense was as smooth and chilling as Italian ice. My taste for it just vanished. "Hutchinson, let me tell you something. I'm a cop. I've been one for twenty-four years. This job has cost me a good marriage and more than a few good friends."

His admission stopped me cold. It seemed a retelling of my past. Vanessa and I at loggerheads about late nights and low pay. John Colby and his disappearing act from the academy. I prayed it wasn't a foreshadowing of Starsky's and my future. Did he know how much I had come to depend on Starsky's constancy?

"When I see find a bad cop, it hurts." Cue the violins.

I had to give him credit. He knew how to play to not just my weakness, but my partner's as well.

"When I see how many good cops there are. Men who love the law like I do it. _Those_ cops are the only friends I have left."

Starsky was shaking again, the faintest tremor that only I could see. Black and white, right and wrong waged a battle within him. It _did_ hurt. He had to believe that he'd suffered for a reason. That his dad had been killed, that he'd gone overseas to fight a senseless war, for a _reason_. If you took that away from him, he'd cease to be the man he was.

I'd made peace with my shades of gray. He still needed to trust in black and white.

oooooooooo

 _Vigilante cops._ "Garner could be right," I heard myself say. The thought had been churning in my mind as we drove. Rapists and killers unconnected in any other way except that they'd been arrested and quickly turned back out on the streets. Then killed as though by professionals, with an array of weapons. The thought was more than distasteful. It downright made me sick. The words so bitter in my mouth that I had to spit them out.

"That scares the hell outta me." Starsky's rebuttal was unvarnished.

It scared the hell out of me, too. Brother cops who had vowed to serve and protect, so jaded they could no longer tell right from wrong. Disillusioned with the legal system. Determined to keep the criminals off the street no matter what it took – even cold-blooded murder. Turning into criminals themselves.

If the thought had crossed _our_ minds, we figured it had probably crossed Willits' pinhead as well. His gloating over his release may have been short-lived. At that very moment he might be feeling like a sitting duck. Or a sacrificial lamb. Starsky turned the car around and headed straight to Willits' apartment. He wanted to make sure he didn't jump bail.

The more Starsky thought about it, the antsier he got. I could tell. He squirmed in his seat and drummed on the steering wheel. Obeying the speed limit became a necessary evil. I talked him into making a brief stop to let me call Garner and notify him of our suspicions, but Garner couldn't be reached. It was Sunday. No doubt he'd was on the golf course with the judge. By then, Starsky was out of patience. And frankly, I was too.

"Don't yell at me while I'm on the phone." I flung back at him, then grimaced as I thought how like a bickering, old couple we sounded.

Sure enough, by the time we got to Willits' place Willits was already on his way out, one step ahead of us. Starsky wasted no time in going after him, sacrificing the Torino's suspension as he gunned over the curb in a quick turn maneuver.

We raced down the street practically door handle to door handle, but couldn't get him to pull over. We just wanted to talk but he was having none of it. Willits' speed increased and our chase ensued in earnest. Starsky was in his element, confident of the Torino's ability to hold the road. As much as I loathed its flash, these were the times I was grateful for its muscle.

Finally Willits' car slid off at a curve and came to a stop. But he wasn't sticking around. No sooner had he jumped out than he was firing on us, aiming to kill. This was no ordinary bail jump. Willits seemed to be fighting for his life. What was he so afraid of? We didn't plan on hurting him. It was just the opposite, in fact. We wanted to keep him safe. Safe enough to appear for trial, that is.

I broke left and Starsky scrambled right. Willits continued to fire off rounds at me, bullets tearing through the brush inches from my head, going in for the kill shot. I ducked but had no way to cover myself and no choice but to shoot back. Then a shot came from Starsky's direction and Willits went down. I heaved a deep sigh of relief. I hadn't expected such a close call. Thank God for my partner. He could add another notch on his belt for saving my ass.

We caught up to Willits as he lay in the dirt, clutching a bloody shoulder where Starsky had winged him. His eyes were squeezed tight and he was heaving in terror. Like the devil himself had caught up with him. Something was wrong with this picture. Here was a man in fear for his miserable life, not just time in the slammer. As if Starsky were about to take point blank aim with his Beretta and finish him off. Execution style.

 _Damn._ A click sounded in my head.

"Are you thinking what I'm thinking?" I looked at Starsky and saw myself reflected back like a mirror. We read in each other's eyes a truth we'd both been dreading.

This wasn't just a chase, it was a set up. Someone must have gotten to Willits and convinced him that either Starsky or I, or maybe even both of us, were planning to hunt him down and kill him. Told him that he was next in line after Adams, Blake and Billings. It was as clear as the terror on his sweaty face.

He'd been running for his life. Willits believed if we got to him, he was a dead man. He had fired back at us in self-defense. Whoever had set him up wasn't just anyone, but someone who knew that if either Starsky or I were in danger, the other wouldn't hesitate to take out the threat. Leaving one or both of us drawn into a messy investigation. A perfect red herring to distract attention from the _real_ vigilantes. Other police officers.

We'd added two plus two and came up with four. The calculation of whoever had planned this particular charade, however, had been a fraction off. Starsky hadn't killed Willits. He was too good of a shot. But for a window in time, the three of us were the only ones who knew that. What if Starsky _had_ killed him?

A crack had appeared the groundwork. An opening for one of us to be seen as taking the law into our own hands. It might be enough to gain the confidence of and hopefully expose the _real_ vigilantes. But I didn't like the direction our path was taking us.

oooooooooo

"It has to be me, Hutch. Ya know it has ta be me." Starsky was looking at me with those intense, fathomless eyes. A journey to the end of which I hope I'd never reach. He was trying to convince me that he had everything under control. An opportunity like this was rare and he wasn't about to let it slip through his fingers, no matter what his mother hen partner had to say.

"I know that." I just didn't have to like it. It seemed as though the whole set up had been rigged just to lure Starsky in. We both could be hotheads from time to time, but Starsky's heated words to Garner and Willits at the courthouse had drawn plenty of attention. The confrontation was still the talk of water coolers throughout the precinct. But I didn't want to see him filleted like a grunion caught off the Bay City docks.

We'd done our best police academy-style first aid on Willits' shoulder and hustled him back to Starsky's apartment slumped in the back seat of the Torino. He was thankful to still be alive so he didn't make much trouble other than some superficial moans and groans. Like mine, Starsky's place was equipped with as much pain medication, antibiotic ointment and dressing as a mini clinic. This wasn't our first rodeo. Besides, Starsky's bed was probably a whole lot cleaner and more comfortable than what Willits was used to.

We closed the door to the bedroom and sat down with a couple of beers to think things through. I'd put in a call to Captain Dobey but we wanted our plan foolproof before he had a chance to kick the dominoes so tenuously arranged. If Starsky and I put our heads together we were usually able to bring Dobey over to our way of thinking. At least temporarily. But harboring Willits and going against I.A. was definitely not SOP.

What we had in mind wasn't a typical undercover operation like a drug bust or fencing sting. This didn't require a secret identity. An itchy wig or funny accent. We just needed to ourselves. Burned out and let down by the system. A little too close for comfort.

But that wasn't the only thing bothering me. In order for Starsky to go under as a likely vigilante recruit, we'd need to not only act separately, but actually in opposition. The bond between us needed to be severed. Nothing would convince insiders more that Starsky had gone rogue than if they thought he and I were on the outs. The idea left me more than a little unsteady.

"It'll be okay." It wasn't enough that we were sitting practically thigh to thigh, Starsky felt a need to put a hand on my knee as well. His touch was warm and comforting. He may have felt confident about what we were about to do, but the haven I found in his nearness only made me realize how lost I'd be if he were ever to drift to the other side.

"Just what the hell is going on?" Dobey boomed minutes later when Starsky let him in the door. When I showed him Willits stowed away in Starsky's bedroom, his attitude only got worse.

"What do you two jackasses think you're doing? Do you know what kind of trouble you could get into by harboring a fugitive like Willits? Do you know what kind of trouble _I_ could get into?" He paced the room like an angry grizzly. It was a mistake to consider him a teddy bear. "We've got a possible vigilante situation and I.A. is already on our asses! This isn't some schoolyard game."

I felt like pacing right behind him. But now Starsky was cool and collected. "Willits' break was a trap, Captain. And Hutch and I took the bait. Well, rather, _I_ did. Hutch wanted to leave him up to Garner."

Starsky looked up and gave me a little smile then, letting me know he was willing to take the fall for the whole business. Trying to keep my ass clean in case everything went to shit.

He spelled out our plan, turning on his Brooklyn charm – he always seemed to have an endless supply - to convince the Captain to try it our way. At least for forty-eight hours. Willits dead by Starsky's hand. A partner who saw the whole scene a bit differently. A touch of Wild West justice by a once idealistic cop, now jaded. Just the kind of thing self-appointed saviors get off on.

Dobey huffed and puffed but eventually agreed. He looked at us both, then just shook his head. In admiration or despair, I couldn't quite tell.

When the morning headline broke, "Attorney Charges Murder by Badge," our game took on a life of its own. Lt. Fargo pulled us into Dobey's office so fast he had my head spinning. So fast I hadn't even gotten a handle on the fake report I submitted earlier on the Willits incident.

Starsky insisted that Willits had had me cold and he'd used deadly force to save my skin. A claim my testimony hadn't backed up.

"I'm afraid Starsky's under suspension pending a full investigation," he calmly explained.

"Just what did you say in your report, buddy?" Starsky glared at me. The way he spit out "buddy" chilled my blood.

"Nothing but the truth, buddy." I could barely look at him. I was afraid if Lt. Fargo saw my eyes he'd see right through me.

When Starsky slammed his badge and gun on Dobey's desk he should have won an academy award. "You can hold it, you can bronze it, and you can stuff it!" He blazed.

"Don't do something you're going to be sorry for." Dobey advised.

"I already am," Starsky bit out. "I tried to be a good cop." He made ready to charge out the door, but before he did he sent me a parting shot.

"So long, partner."

Our connection was well and truly broken. I'd never felt so alone.

ooooooooooooooo

I found Starsky later at Dirty Nellie's, just like he said he'd be. Nursing a beer and looking as if he'd just lost his best friend. Like the whole world was crashing in on him. _Yeah._ I knew the feeling.

Nellie's was a comfortable pub just around the corner from police headquarters. A favorite hangout for uniforms to unwind with cold drinks and cheap food. Where they could trade horror stories with their brothers in blue, so they wouldn't bring the streets home to their wives and kids. Even Huggy could be found hanging out there from time to time when he had prime information, and whatever else his crazy entrepreneurial alter-ego came up with, to sell.

Starsky was commiserating with Nellie as I walked in. Loud enough for an audience. He swirled a last swallow of beer in his glass and I wondered just how many he'd had before I'd arrived.

"You take those shows on TV. The good guys always win," Nellie was saying. "But that ain't the way it happens. You ask Dirty Nellie. That ain't the way it happens at all."

I wasn't about to argue with her. She probably knew a hell of a lot more about it than even I did.

Starsky wasted no time lighting in to me when I tried to make conversation.

"Take it easy, will ya?" I cautioned.

"I have the right to remain silent, is that is?"

"I'm just trying to help you out." It wasn't so hard to act like the concerned friend.

"Well you have a funny way of showin' it, pal. I blow away a no good punk and you're ready to help nail me to the wall."

"Look. No one's trying to get at you. We just want the truth, that's all."

Starsky changed direction then and for a minute sounded so much like the friend I knew, I nearly broke character. His eyes haunted me. "Blake – Adams – Billings – and Willits. Do you know how many people they raped or murdered? What about the victims? Who cares about them? They're either dead or their lives are ruined."

If I thought he deserved an award for acting indignant and angry in Dobey's office, the disgust and bitterness he displayed now deserved a standing ovation. Or was it really an act? How much was I seeing of the real Starsky now? The blue-eyed boy who had been so let down by the system that he could no longer stand.

"You take Willits. That snake Garner would have twisted the law around and gotten him off somehow or plea-bargained down to easy time."

"Nothing's happened yet, Starsky. You've just been put on suspension, that's all. There's going to be a hearing."

"And you're going to testify at that hearing, right, buddy boy? And what are you going to say at that hearing? Are you going to tell them what you said in your report? Are you going to tell them what you said out there, remember, when you found out he was dead?

By now, we had the full attention of everyone in the place, especially the four uniforms downing greasy burgers in a corner booth.

"I'm going to tell them the truth."

"Well, let me tell you something, partner. I don't care about the truth. I have had it up to here. Ask Nellie. The bad guys suck it all up."

When he looked back at me again I saw a stranger. I wanted to grab him by the arm right then and there and walk out. Go for a cruise in the Torino. Head to Huggy's for a beer. Or better yet, order takeout pizza and go back to his place where we could cheat at Monopoly or laugh at monster movies on channel 6 until we both crashed.

Before today that had been our world. No matter what craziness had been happening on the outside, we still had a separate peace all our own. Even when we were working the streets, investigating the grisliest crime scene, he could send me a look - a lift of a brow, the quirk of his lips - and it would steady me. The obscenity of it all would fade into the background and it would just be he and I.

Not this time.

I reached for his arm and got an elbow in the gut, then a punch that blind-sided me. It was something we hadn't even talked about, let alone practiced. The force of it sent me reeling across the room and onto the table of the four patrolmen. They looked shocked but they couldn't have been more shocked than me. I was still trying to catch my breath when Starsky turned and walked out, not giving me an opportunity to read him. As if there was something he was hiding from me.

I had barely stopped my shaking when I got back to Starsky's place where Dobey and an officer he had brought in from another precinct were babysitting Willits. Now all I could do was wait and see if we had spread enough shit to catch any flies.

ooooooooooooooooo

Bingo. A few hours later Starsky was back, a pretty blonde in the passenger's seat of the Torino. He couldn't have scored faster if it was Saturday night at the disco. He handed me his camera so I could get a few shots of her through the small window in his door, but I already knew I had seen her somewhere before. A near photographic memory was a blessing and a curse. It helped me remember the things I wanted but left me unable to forget the things I didn't.

He said her name was Ginger and that she'd approached him in the parking lot at Nellie's. She told him she was a friend of the girl Willits and Billings had nearly raped and had invited him back to her place for dinner. Starsky bounced around the apartment as if his feet were on springs. Having some action to get involved in always energized him. He pulled out a bottle of wine and said he was going back to her house for dinner. 902 Maryvale.

I focused the camera lens in on her. "Her name's not Ginger," I told him.

She reminded me of a woman who'd been rousted in a bunko sting a few years ago. I remembered her because of the way she'd broken down in the interrogation room. I had brought her a cup of water. She'd made no attempt to tough it out, like most of the people who get caught running a scam. Usually, people act like they have no idea why they've been busted. Like the police made some ridiculous mistake and that _we_ should be the ones apologizing.

She just cried like a lost little girl and blew her nose on a napkin.

As Starsky headed out the door with a bottle of chianti in his hand, Captain Dobey cautioned him to be careful. "Your life may be on the line," he reminded him.

I was grateful Dobey was the one to say it. I was painfully aware how vulnerable he was. We had decided against a wire. He didn't even have a gun. All he had was me.

oooooooooooooooooo

After we had secured Willits, Dobey and I headed back to police headquarters. With a little research and some cajoling, I found out Ginger's real name was Conrad, Alice K. I'd been right. She was the same woman I remembered who'd been arrested while working a clip joint, promising men more than just a dance at a strip club for a price, then never delivering. A slick operation. Some men would pay big bucks for a cheap thrill. Her court record said she could have been sentenced to five years but was released due to the efforts of another familiar face. Lieutenant Fargo.

As I carried Alice's records in to Captain Dobey, I was surprised to see the lieutenant coming out of Dobey's office. Funny that we were both working late.

"Did you turn up anything on that young woman?" He asked. "I think she calls herself Ginger."

 _Damn._ Fargo must have just been discussing the case with Dobey. I thought he had agreed to keep our plan under wraps for forty-eight hours. The less people who knew about Starsky's going under, the better I'd sleep at night. Despite his pep talk about good cops and bad cops, or perhaps because of it, I didn't trust Fargo further than I could throw him.

"Did you mention Starsky to Fargo?" I asked point blank when I walked in his office.

"No. I just told him we had a man under cover."

"What about Ginger?"

"I did tell him our man had made contact with a young woman." He admitted.

"But did you mention her by name?"

"No, I didn't. Why?"

A screw tightened in my chest making it painful to breathe.

"Well I just saw Lieutenant Fargo and _he_ mentioned her by name."

Dobey made a quick call to Fargo's office, only to find he had left the building. My pulse raced. Starsky was hanging out on a limb, his cover possibly compromised. My worst fear in this ploy realized.

I raced over to Ginger/Alice's place and caught a break when I found her at home. But when I flashed my badge she just collapsed on the couch. Tears welled in her eyes.

"I didn't want to do it. You have to believe me. But the lieutenant said if I didn't help him, he'd make sure I'd go to jail for _years_. And I was so scared. But your Starsky, he was a such a nice guy." The way she said 'nice guy' made me think she hadn't been around a nice guy in a long time. Maybe she'd even thought there weren't any left.

"Do what, Alice? Where is Starsky?"

I crouched down next to her and put my hands on her shoulders. I wanted to shake her, make her spill out answers like salt. But that wasn't the way it worked with people like her. Traumatized and backed in a corner. Terrified and not thinking clearly. So I stopped myself.

"They wanted me to bring him here, but I didn't want to."

"Okay, Alice. It'll be okay." I needed to stay calm, draw her out. "But where is he now?"

"He went with them. I didn't know where." She brought her fist to her mouth and hunched her shoulders, retreating with nowhere to hide.

"Who? _Who?_ " My panic was rising.

"Those cops. Williams and Knight. He didn't want to go either. I could tell. He was a nice guy."

 _Yeah, yeah. He's a nice guy, alright. And brave and noble and a whole lot of other things._ But right now he was also in trouble and I needed to find him.

"Where did they take him, Alice? You have to tell me. His life could be in danger."

She looked at me like she was waking up from a bad dream. "I . . . I'm not sure. "

I didn't have to shake her any more. The words came tumbling out. An old story but tragic none the less. An unhappy home in the Midwest. A dream of a better life in the California sun. But the grass isn't always greener, the sun isn't always brighter. She admitted to some bad decisions and getting caught up in the bunko racket at the strip club. Easy money she desperately needed.

She was brought into the station in handcuffs, terrified. She'd never been arrested before. Had never even seen the inside of a police station. All those impersonal forms to fill out and stern-faced uniforms circling. Except for Lt. Fargo. He acted like he really cared. He got her felony charge reduced to a misdemeanor. His words were reassuring and his eyes were warm. But he had a price.

 _Yeah, he has a real talent for that._ And not unlike Alice, I'd fallen for it hook, line and sinker. While all he wanted was to get his hooks into Starsky. The frustrated young detective whose black and white had faded into the legal system's smoke and mirrors.

Lt. Fargo had turned out to be not such a nice guy after all. He'd point out a target and use Alice as a lure to reel them in. Disenchanted cops in trouble with Internal Affairs. Maybe they'd spoken too quickly to the wrong person, driven by unchecked emotion, like Starsky. Maybe they'd even been a bit too fast with their arm or gun. He used their weaknesses to build up a committee to cut through the red tape and dispense his own private justice.

Williams and Knight. Now I had names. I called in to dispatch for their addresses and to let Dobey know my moves. I didn't bother checking Fargo's place. He obviously preferred to have others do his dirty work. My instincts told me he would be clean. Like he had reminded me, he was a professional.

Andy Knight's apartment was closest. His wife, confused and worried, let me in. She told me he had left about an hour ago with another officer, Ted Williams. When she'd walked on their quiet but tense conversation, they had shut up quickly. Just like they had been doing for the past several months. But when she asked about it, her husband just told her they were working on a special project. She hadn't pressed them further.

"I'm afraid Andy may have run into some trouble, Mrs. Knight. He isn't responding to his radio. It's important that I find him right away."

My vague warning earned her nervous cooperation. Once again, I was haunted by Lt. Fargo's words. It looked like the job was on the verge of costing another good marriage. I hoped like hell it wasn't about cost me a friend.

"I don't know if this might be of any help, but Andy and Ted had been looking over a map before they left. I just folded it up and put it away."

She opened the top drawer to Knight's work desk and pulled out a folded map of the city's system of river tunnels. There was a section circled in black marker. At this time of night the tunnels were sure to be dark and secluded.

I fought the dread and fear that beat at me. But it was winning.

oooooooooooooooo

I pressed down the gas pedal on my LTD. It didn't respond nearly quickly enough. I desperately wanted the Torino's energy. Even more, I wanted Starsky. I picked up the handset on the radio to tell Captain Dobey where I was going, but he got to me first.

"We just a call from someone who claimed to be a neighbor of Attorney Garner. Said he saw two officers walk Garner out of his apartment and take him away in a police cruiser."

"Captain, I can't deal with that now I'm . . . "

"I already had it checked out. There's been no orders to have Garner picked up for any reason. They may be connected to the vigilantes."

Wheels were spinning in my head. Was it possible? Knight and Williams had picked up Starsky. Had they also picked up Garner? I could only guess at the reason why.

"I think I know where they're headed. There was map of the river tunnels at Knight's place with a location circled. They may have Starsky, too. I'm headed there now."

If these men were the vigilantes, they had already committed three cold-blooded murders. They had nothing left to lose. If they thought bring Starsky onboard, they'd give him two choices. Join or die. If they thought he was out to expose them, they'd only give him one.

If he had an option, which would Starsky choose? Would he give up his life to protect Garner when he abhorred everything the man stood for? How many dangerous criminals had been released too soon because of Garner's machinations? How many women had been raped? How many people had died at the hands of Garner's clients?

Starsky was a good cop. But he was also tired, burned out, frustrated. I could feel it in my bones. Every time we filed reports in triplicate, or sat in stuffy courtrooms across from insolent defendants and slick attorneys. Even when we straightened their collars in front of bored judges who just wanted to get back to the golf course.

If given the choice to kill Garner, or protect him and perhaps lose his own life in the process, what would I have him do? Which would I want him to save? His body or his soul? For heart-stopping minutes even _I_ didn't know. Starsky was out there somewhere with no gun, no backup. Nothing but his conscience.

I drove slowly through the tunnels for endless minutes, using only my running lights. I strained to see into the shadows. I had given Dobey the location from the map and could only hope I'd get backup soon.

My palms grew sweaty on the wheel and my heart was a violent hummingbird thrumming in my chest. Thoughts crowded into my head but I didn't want to think. Then I saw it. A police cruiser parked several hundred yards down the tunnel. Near the car I made out the figures of five men – two looked to be in uniform and one was standing awkwardly with something white around his mouth.

Flipping on the headlights and gunning the LTD down the tunnel toward them, I acted more on instinct than planning. As I swung the car around to block an escape route, two of the men burst away from the group to run in the opposite direction. Almost simultaneously, the two uniforms begin firing at the running figures. I knew just by the way one of them moved, it had to be Starsky.

I jumped from the car and fired my gun to distract them. The uniforms then turned their weapons on me, but the third man ran after Starsky. I dove for cover behind the car but continued to fire. Bullets pinged against the cement of the tunnel walls adding the chance of a deadly ricochet to their menace. But my attackers must have been unprepared for a full out gun battle and their rounds were quickly spent.

I went to apprehend them as hurriedly as I could. I was desperate to go after Starsky. I had no idea what he was up against alone in the dark. Just then, backup arrived. The siren, near deafening in the enclosed space, was music to my ears. But the next sound I heard was even sweeter.

"Huuutch!" Starsky voice echoed as he emerged from the shadows of the tunnel. I'd never heard anything more wonderful. He was bringing someone along with him at the point of a gun. He shoved the other man up against the LTD with a force that rocked entire the car. Lt. Fargo. Well, I guess the lieutenant could file a brutality complaint with Internal Affairs. _Oh, wait. Yeah._

"I thought I was done for." Starsky admitted breathlessly. "How'd you find us?"

Almost before I could answer we were swarmed by more cruisers and officers, clean ones this time, here to pick up the mess. Even Dobey had arrived on the scene. He must have been nearly as concerned as me. Not that he would ever say it.

"Your latest conquest. Ginger." I started to explain how I had twigged to Lt. Fargo through his connection with Ginger. How Fargo had pressed her into working for him, dangling a felony bunko charge over her head. But Starsky was distracted. He was struggling to catch his breath and searching his pockets.

"My rock. I lost my rock." He took off back into the tunnel to look for it. Dobey just looked at me.

"He lost his rock, Captain." I explained. Thank God I had found mine.

oooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Williams, Knight and Fargo were brought into the station and booked. We picked up Ginger personally. She had to be arrested, but we hoped this time would be different. Her only role in the committee had been to use her home as a base and play up to certain "inductees" targeted by Fargo.

Starsky charmed her into swearing out a statement against Fargo and his band of merry men and she was released on bail. The district attorney pretty much guaranteed that, with her testimony and promise of good behavior, she would most likely get off with just probation. For that, she was thankful.

On the other hand, Garner wasn't as gracious. Not even a thank you to Starsky for saving his pompous ass. Just an assurance that he'd be back another day doing his best to protect the "interests" of his riff-raff clients. I swear, the man must have rocks in his head. But at the moment I didn't mind so much because I had Starsky back, too.

"The sooner you young officers learn to separate yourself from the emotionalism of believing that justice is based on right and wrong, the further you'll go in this department."

Another lecture, I know. But this time it was from Captain Dobey, so we didn't mind as much. After all, there was a time he'd walked in our shoes. And his commendation helped to ease the sting.

Afterward, we headed to Huggy's for a few drinks and games of pool to unwind. It'd be awhile before we'd want to go back to Dirty Nellie's. We talked to Huggy about Ginger's situation and he said he'd pull a few strings to find her a gig that wouldn't call for her to perform any more shady tricks. Yeah, not only was he a wheeler-dealer, I was reminded that he was also a good friend.

"At that, pal, is how it's done." Starsky settled the cue back in the rack with satisfaction, having beat me three in a row. Usually we were pretty even, but tonight my game was definitely off. He slid into the seat across from me.

"What? No come back? No smart lines about luck or my stars being in alignment?" He took a swig of beer and leaned in at me, daring me to take a shot. It was natural. It was expected. But it wasn't forthcoming.

I just sat back and took him in, that shit-eating grin and the smallest dab of beer foam glistening on his upper lip. Memorizing him like one might the Aurora Borealis when seeing it for the first time, not knowing how long it would last or if you'd ever get to see it again.

"What is it? Did I suddenly grow two heads or something?"

I blushed. "Sorry, it's just. . . well I. . . "

I turned the glass in my hand. How could I tell him how grateful I was to be with him here in this ratty old dive? That for a fraction of moment, no matter how small, I had worried he'd become disillusioned and frustrated enough to switch teams. What kind of partner, what kind of friend, did that make me? While I was searching for him through those tunnels I was terrified of what I might find in more ways than one.

Like usual, he read my mind. His disposition grew somber, like clouds rolling in.

"Ya know, when I was pointin' that gun at Garner, I'm not gonna lie. I _did_ think of all the low-lifes that got put back on the streets because of him and other guys like him." He looked me in the eye, his gaze unflinching. "But I also thought, that's not for me to judge. I'm a cop. I'm here to serve and protect. And that means everybody. It's not up to me to choose." His tone was even and rock-steady.

I nodded. Anything I could have said, my partner had just said far better.

"Do remember me goin' after George Prudholm? Chasing him down at the old zoo?

I shook my head yes. It was one of the things I'd like to forget but never will.

"I wanted you to stay behind, but you didn't. You came after me. And when I had that crazy fuck on the ground with my gun at his head, I wanted nothin' better than to put his brains all over those rocks for what he did to Dan Tinker and Jack Forrest. So I can understand how Knight and Williams felt." How like Starsky to strip everything down to basics - even himself. To not hold anything back or to try to make himself look better than he was.

"But you were there, Hutch, standing by me. _Watchin_ ' me. You gave me that look. And I knew _you_ wouldn't have pulled the trigger. So I sure as hell wasn't going to do it with you there waitin'."

He was more sure of me that I was of myself. He made me want to be a better man. He reached out and put his hand on mine. It was unnecessary. He had me in his palm anyway. "So when I was aiming at Garner, I thought, now what would Hutch do?"

He removed his hand then and brought his glass up to his lips to hide his grin. "So I ran." He took a swig and the clouds drew back, revealing the sun.

 _Jackass._ I choked on my beer.

He pulled the stone he had tossed, then retrieved in the tunnel out from his pocket and waved it in the air. "Hey, Hug." He called out brightly. "Do you have any more a' these things? We could sell em' as lucky stones. Make a fortune!"

Igneous, he had called it. Formed by the cooling of liquefied earth. Boiling magma solidified over time into something unyielding. That sounded just about right.


End file.
